


grow young again

by yeswayappianway



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: “Sasha?” Zhenya’s voice is even softer now, as if he’s afraid of disturbing him. Sasha shakes his head to clear it.“You should definitely come visit me. I was just thinking.”“That’s new, don’t strain yourself.”





	grow young again

**Author's Note:**

> for jarka, because there's not enough ovi/geno in the world, and because i had a lot of emotions after today's game and i needed to Do Something with them
> 
> this wasn't beta-d at all so that's. A Thing. (if you notice anything wrong, please let me know!)
> 
> title from No Surrender, by Bruce Springsteen

“So. We’re going to be playing each other again.” Zhenya’s voice is solid on the other side of the phone. Not excited, not quiet, just- there. Like he always is, if Sasha thinks about it, which he tries not to, most days. But sometimes, life forces him to think about it anyway.

“We knew it would happen.” Sasha opens his mouth to continue but finds he doesn’t know what to say. They did know it would happen, but that doesn’t make it better. He doesn’t want to offer congratulations on getting past the first round, because it means this will happen, again, for the second year in a row. He’s suddenly exhausted.

Zhenya seems to have been waiting for the rest of the sentence, but when Sasha goes silent, he speaks up. They have always been well matched. “Do you want me to come down early? I think I could get a few days.” He wait a little, but then he continues, his voice hesitant as it so rarely is. “I would… I want to.” Sasha hates hearing him so unsure of himself, Zhenya deserves to be bold and loud and strong, but at the same time, he knows Zhenya is uncertain because of him and he can’t regret it entirely. If it was the other way around, if he kept winning at the expense of Zhenya, Sasha is sure it would be easier for him, and he knows that makes him an asshole. He doesn’t care. It gets harder every year, seeing the fucking Penguins win and win and make miracles out of injury lists. He knows it isn’t fair to put that on Zhenya, knows that if Zhenya stopped playing his best, he would be equally unhappy.

“Sasha?” Zhenya’s voice is even softer now, as if he’s afraid of disturbing him. Sasha shakes his head to clear it.

“You should definitely come visit me. I was just thinking.”

“That’s new, don’t strain yourself.” Sasha wants to roll his eyes, he’s heard this joke from Zhenya (and his team, honestly) a hundred times, but he finds himself smiling instead. Maybe he’s missed Zhenya more than he realized.

“Yeah, yeah, at least I don’t have to look at your pathetic face in the mirror.”

Zhenya cheerily replies, “But you’ll be looking at it in person in a few days! I’ll text you when I leave and you can pick me up from the airport,” and hangs up.

Sasha curses, and picks up his phone to look up when flights would be coming in from Pittsburgh early in the week.

\-----

The minute Zhenya throws his bags in the back of the car, something in Sasha relaxes. The sight of him folding his long legs into the passenger seat, bitching about airplane seats and flight delays, feels a little like coming home. It’s easy to think of Zhenya as a Penguin, especially at this point in the year, but seeing him like this, Sasha is forcefully reminded that Zhenya is also a Russian, and someone he has known almost longer than anyone outside of his family.

Sasha would probably lose himself entirely in reflection if someone didn’t honk from behind them at that moment. He pulls out of the curb lane, Zhenya glaring behind them at the car who honked. Sasha laughs, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. Zhenya turns his grumpy monologue on drivers at the airport, “always thinking they’re the only one trying to get somewhere. You’re at a fucking airport, asshole, everyone’s going somewhere!” Sasha can see the smile hiding under Zhenya’s exaggerated expression as they drive away and he thinks that maybe he should have done this sooner.

\-----

They make it back to Sasha’s house, with only the usual DC traffic for Zhenya to complain about. Having seen Pittsburgh drivers, Sasha thinks neither of them is in a great spot for quality driving, but he only eggs Zhenya on. Zhenya’s always had his most colorful turns of phrases come out when he’s ranting. Sasha vividly remembers one of his rivers of abuse about a particular ref from the last Olympics, and it’s one of the better memories of a two weeks deeply colored by failure.

Getting out of the car, Sasha goes around and grabs one of Zhenya’s bags for him, marching toward the house.

“Aw, have you finally learned some manners?” Zhenya mocks.

Sasha snorts. “My guest manners have always been wonderful. You just don’t usually count.” Zhenya catches up as he unlocks the door and goes through, just in time to catch him on the shoulder, and they jostle each other down the front hall.

Sasha leads them up the stairs, and to the first guest room on the left. He tosses the bag he’s carrying onto the bed, where it bounces slightly before settling. Zhenya glares a little, very deliberately placing the ones he’s carrying gently down beside it, and Sasha smirks before going back downstairs.

Zhenya follows him into the kitchen, where Sasha opens up his refrigerator. “Do you want something to drink?”

Zhenya is leaning against the counter halfway across the room when Sasha looks up. “I’ll have some water, asshole.” 

“Now who doesn’t have manners?” Sasha chides, clucking his tongue. “Honestly.”

Rolling his eyes, Zhenya says, “Oh, I’m sorry. May I _please_ have some water, asshole?” He’s barely finished speaking when Sasha tosses a water bottle straight at his head. Zhenya manages to put his hand up and catch it, but the wounded look on his face, as if he’s never been so personally betrayed is so over the top that Sasha bursts out laughing. After a few seconds, Zhenya joins him, doubling over with laughter.

After straightening up, Zhenya makes his way over to sit down at the little table in the kitchen, but Sasha grabs his arm, steering him into the living room and dropping into the couch. Zhenya plops down right next to him, listing toward him as he sinks into the cushions and opens his water. Sasha’s eyes trace the line of Zhenya’s throat, almost instinctively, as he drinks what seems like half the bottle all at once. Sasha feels unbearably fond.

“I’m glad you came down.” He thinks he might have been embarrassed by how sincere he sounds once, but Sasha knows he owes Zhenya that sincerity, and he wants to give it anyway.

Zhenya stops drinking, puts the water down on the table in front of them, but keeps looking ahead as he speaks. “I wasn’t sure you would be, to be honest. I thought… maybe you didn’t want to see me anymore, that I was just a reminder of bad things.” Sasha wants to deny it with the conviction of someone whose best friend is down on themself, but it’s almost exactly what he had been thinking during their phone call. This is what had made all their fights so painful, he thinks, they were all true. Still.

“I- I thought the same thing for a while.” He doesn’t miss the little wince that goes through Zhenya’s face, but Sasha feels honesty is the best option here. “It’s hard, sometimes, to see you and not your team when it feels like all we do is play each other. But, I think I wasn’t thinking about it the right way. I thought if I saw you less, I’d have to think about it less. But if I see you more, then I offset the losses with other memories, and it’s easier.” Zhenya has stopped staring into space, and turned his attention directly to Sasha. He sees something in Zhenya’s eyes that he doesn’t quite recognize. “You’ve only been here for… not very long, and I’m already laughing and happy that you’re here. Anyway, I missed you.” He stops talking, realizing how much he had just said. It wasn’t that Sasha didn’t mean every word but- he wasn’t sure he had known that until he said it.

Zhenya is still looking at him with that expression on his face, and as Sasha is trying to place it, Zhenya leans in, deliberately placing his hand on the side of Sasha’s neck. His lips are rough as he presses them against Sasha’s, gently kissing him for a few seconds before drawing back, and saying, “I missed you, too.”

They’ve hooked up fairly recently, during the World Cup and before one of the regular season games in Pittsburgh, but Sasha doesn’t remember this tenderness since they were- much younger, at least, even if he isn’t sure exactly when it was.

He doesn’t know what to say, but Zhenya’s hand is still on his neck. He clasps it in his own, bringing Zhenya’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his palm. Shifting on the couch, he leans back, pulling Zhenya slowly down on top of him. As Zhenya brings his other hand up to brace himself against the couch beside Sasha’s shoulder, Sasha reaches for his waist. He runs his fingers lightly along Zhenya’s side where his shirt has ridden up slightly, and Zhenya jerks on top of him. Sasha stills his hand, and then suddenly remembers something he’d learned very early in their fooling around.

“That’s right, you’re ticklish here, aren’t you?” Zhenya tries to squirm away, denying it, but Sasha grips him as best as he can with his legs, and actively starts tickling Zhenya’s side. Zhenya shouts, wildly grabbing at his face with the hand Sasha was still holding.

“Oh my god, no, stop, stop, fuck you-” Sasha continues, until Zhenya drops his entire weight down on top of him, and Sasha lets out a grunt as breathing suddenly gets much harder.

Zhenya presses the advantage mercilessly, covering Sasha’s mouth. “Are you going to stop now?” Sasha waits a few seconds before nodding, and Zhenya raises his eyebrows before removing his hand. Sasha opens his mouth, trying to take a deep breath while Zhenya shakes his head. “And we were having such a nice moment, too. You just had to ruin it.”

Sasha rolls his eyes, grinning. “This way is more fun, and you know it. Besides, if we’re going to do this, I don’t want to be on the damn couch.”

Zhenya wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, are we 'doing this'?” His tone is ridiculously, cartoonishly suggestive. Sasha grabs a handful of Zhenya’s ass before planting a foot on the ground and pushing Zhenya toward the back of the couch as he gets out from under him and stands up.

“Of course we’re 'doing this'. What’s the point of me having all these nice big beds if we don’t fuck on them? Besides, you’re easy for me.” Zhenya looks like he wants to argue, but Sasha knows getting manhandled turns him on, so he just raises an eyebrow at him. Zhenya shrugs, licking his lips as he raises a hand toward Sasha. He pulls Zhenya up, and starts dragging him upstairs.

In a few days, he’ll have to face Zhenya on the ice, but as they hurry towards his bedroom, he feels like he has all the time in the world.


End file.
